


Cups

by flamehairedwritings



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas Drabbles 2018, Christmas Party, F/M, Tension, oooh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 04:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17217176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamehairedwritings/pseuds/flamehairedwritings
Summary: Based on the prompt ‘Character A and Character B, sworn enemies, are chosen to prepare the company Christmas Party’, by @alloftheprompts on Tumblr.





	Cups

* * *

 

 

“What the hell are you doing?”

_Oh, here we go._

“Excuse me?”

Arching an eyebrow, you place your hands on your hips as you turn to the source of the gruff voice.

Chief Jim Hopper looks at you incredulously, his hands also on his hips.

“What. The hell. Are you doing?” he repeats in that slow way that immediately makes you feel like a complete idiot.

Clenching your jaw, you raise your eyebrows. “What does it look like, Chief Hopper?”

“It looks like you’re hangin’ tinsel on the holding cells.”

“Oh, so your eyes do work.”

You turn back to your task, a hint of a smug smirk on your lips as you hear him exhale a long breath. You were always able to push your luck because what could he do? Fire you? Yeah, well, maybe, but on what grounds? Stating the truth?

_Just **try me** , Hopper._

You were always just that little step ahead, and he hated it.

“You can’t hang tinsel on the holding cells.”

“Do please tell me why.”

You can practically hear his teeth grinding together. “That’s where we keep suspected or confirmed criminals. We can’t have it lookin’… Jolly.”

“Yes, we can.” You finish sticking two ends of tinsel together and step down from the chair.

And you leave your response at that.

Turning away from him, you move back to the box of decorations, rummaging through it for the multi-coloured lights you’d seen and fallen in love with earlier. Finding them,  _horrendously_  tangled, you thrust them in Hopper’s direction, not looking at him.

“Do something useful and untangle these.”

You hear that deep, irritating sigh of exasperation as he takes them and sits down heavily in the nearest chair, getting to work as he mutters under his breath.

If only he’d known Flo had also picked you to decorate the Station. He would have stayed right the hell away. Maybe even gone across to another state. Taken a whole damn week off so he didn’t have to  _see_ or  _think_  about you.

What he wouldn’t give for one day of relief.

 

* * *

 

“Come on, honey, come and dance.”

Smiling widely at Flo, you shake your head, your bell earrings tinkling with the motion. “No, I’m all right, thank you, Flo. Maybe after I’ve had a few more of these.” You raise your cup a little. “Then I’ll be able to dance like, oh, what did our delightful chief call it last year… A newborn foal with roller-skates on.” 

Flo tuts as she moves closer to your side. “Like he can dance any better. Oh, no, I mean, you are a good dancer, honey,” she swiftly continues when you arch an eyebrow. “Oh, you know what I mean. Oh, if only you two would get along, you have so much in common.”

You snort, raising your cup to your lips. “Yeah, well, he should apologise.”

“Can’t you just let it go and shake hands?”

“I’m not that big a person, Flo.”

It had been three years since you’d started. Three years since The Incident. Since… Since he’d… What had he said again… Urgh, you can’t remember the specifics but it was something incredibly patronising and you hadn’t just let it slide and it had snowballed from there and here you are today.

Staring across the office floor at him.

Your skin prickling in that way it always does when he’s near.

Your heart beating just that little bit faster.

Unable to stop staring at him.

 

* * *

 

“‘nother beer, Chief?”

Hopper lifts his gaze from his nearly empty bottle to the one Powell holds out to him.

“Yeah, thanks.” Setting the one in his hand down on the table, he accepts the fresh bottle, raising it to his lips for a sip. 

Powell stands at his side, gazing out at the cramped dance floor you had somehow made the space for, desks and chairs shoved aside.

“Hey, didn’t she wear that dress at the Thanksgiving party?”

Calvin Powell looks to his chief, then to you, then back to Hopper. “Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“Dunno, just…” Hopper shrugs, lifting the bottle to his lips again as he mumbles, “Make an effort, you know.”

Powell raises his eyebrows. “Says the guy who wears the same shirt to everything.”

“Yeah, but, you know… Women,” Hop finishes weakly, wincing slightly in instant regret.

Powell’s eyebrows rise even higher. “’Women’?”

Apparently relenting to the fact he has to commit to the words that somehow came out of his mouth, Hopper clears his throat and shrugs. “Yeah… Women.”

His officer stares at him. “Uh-huh. Women… Mystifying, aren’t they?”

“Mhm.”

“Annoying when you can’t figure ‘em out, isn’t it?” He watches Hopper stare at you, watching you converse with Flo.

“Mhm.”

“And it’s even more annoying when you wanna go over there, ask ‘em if you can get ‘em a drink and apologise for being a damn idiot all the time.”

“Mhm─” Hopper’s gaze flicks over to him, his eyes narrowing.

Powell shrugs.

Clearing his throat, Hopper opens his mouth, to say what he has no God damn clue, when his eyes find their way back to you and you’re heading into his office.

“What in the hell…” he mutters, irritation swiftly rising within him as he sets his bottle down and strides after you, leaving Powell staring after him.

 

* * *

 

“How can we have run out of cups already? Hopper was meant─ Well, there we go actually, Hopper was in charge, that’s how we have.” Exhaling a short breath of frustration, you then smile at Flo and pat her shoulder gently as you pass. “I’m gonna go and get some cups.”

Placing your cup down on the nearest desk, you round it and push through the small swing door leading to Hopper’s office. Opening the door, you head inside, not bothering to turn the light on.

Hopper being Hopper, he’d vehemently opposed you using his office as a decoration base but you’d ignored him and stored boxes in there when he hadn’t been looking. Which had actually been easy to do because he never looked. Not that you minded. One bit.

Surveying the array of boxes, you try and remember which ones the cups were in.

_Oh, God, where the hell has he put them…_

“What are you doing?”

You exhale a low, exasperated sound, opening the nearest box and starting to search through it. “Getting more cups, officer.”

“Did you not put enough out?”

“The drinks table was  _your_  jurisdiction, Hopper, it’s the only thing you got excited about. The most excited I’ve ever seen you, actually, I didn’t know it was possible.”

“I get excited about things.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Knowing you’re not gonna be in.”

You snort.

_Wait, what._

You hadn’t been able to help it. You’d  _snorted_. And not a dismissive snort. An  _amused_  snort.

And neither of you know what to do.

So you both ignore it.

Clearing your throat and mercifully finding the cups, you pull them out, turn and move to the door, pushing the wrapped stack into Hopper’s hands as you pass him.

You’re so close to the door, so close to freedom and pretending that never happened, when Callahan appears in the doorway.

“Oh, shiiit, look who’s under the mistletoe!” he grins, dangling the fake arrangement above your head.

“Oh, God,  _never_ , Phil,” you reply, incredibly grateful for the distraction and trying so hard not to smile.

“Nah, c’mon, you two.”

“‘You tw─”

In taking a step back from Callahan, you meet a hard wall behind you. 

Not a wall.

A Hopper.

The Chief clears his throat. “No, Callahan.”

“Come on, just a lil’ peck.”

“Calla─”

“Smooch, smooch.”

“Phil─“

He raises the mistletoe higher. “I won’t let you pass and I reckon I could take you both on. Get in to the Christmas spirit, guys, c’mon.”

“Christ,  _fine_ ,” you mutter.

You tilt your head back and lift your chin to kiss Hopper on the cheek to just get this over with… but he’s turned his head, too. 

Your lips meet his.

Gently.

_Gently?_

God, you thought kissing Hopper would be uncoordinated, he’s a complete mess of a man, frankly, but this is… This is  _nice_ , no, wait, anyway, you don’t spend a lot of time thinking about kissing him so─

Your lips are still against his. You haven’t pulled back. And neither has he.

He seems to realise it the same moment you do.

Drawing your head back so quickly you almost strain a muscle, you stare at him as he stares at you.

Even Callahan goes quiet for once.

For a few seconds.

“Okay, who’s next!” he calls out as he turns and zones in on the next victim.

You and Hopper are still looking at each other.

Your cheeks feel warm and his mouth is open, like he’s fighting for something to say.

He finds it. “Right.”

“Right.”

“Okay.”

You want to kiss him again.

Oh,  _God_.

Clearing your throat, you nod and turn away, start walking, pause in the doorway, and then clear your throat again.

“Put the cups on the table, Hopper.”

“Yep.”

Lifting your gaze, you find him still looking at you.

_Oh, God._

“Okay, so I’ll─”

“Actually…”

You blink, slightly startled that he’s interrupted your attempt to leave this situation he should no doubt be also finding awkward. 

There’s something in his eyes, though, something that you can’t look away from.

“… I remember tellin’ you you couldn’t put all this shit in here.” He drops the stack of cups into a box beside him as he moves towards you, and you don’t move.

Standing before you, looking down at you, he reaches behind you and pushes the door shut.

Suddenly, pressed against him, your head leaning back against the door, you can name what’s lingering in his gaze.

Lust.

And you know he can see it in your eyes, too.

“What are you going to do about it, Chief?”

“Somethin’ I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”


End file.
